The Silver Wind

by Nina Allan

Novella (by itself),Time Travel.

2011 BSFA Award nominee for Best Short Fiction.

Genres: Science Fiction, Time Travel, Fantasy, Fiction, Short Stories, Contemporary, Speculative Fiction

61 pages, ebook

First published October 1, 2011

Reviews

[Blair · Rating 5 out of 5]

The Silver Wind is a novel-in-stories. In some ways it reads like a shorter, less ambitious (though no less engaging) precursor to The Race; a series of narratives which could be enjoyed separately, but reveal their true magic when considered together, becoming more than the sum of their parts. The four main stories (for there is a fifth, though it is identified as an 'afterword') are about Martin Newland. He is 'fascinated by the nature of time', and we meet him at various points in his life – or lives? – when encounters with timepieces, and what they represent, seem to shape who he is or might become.

The book opens with 'Time’s Chariot'. Martin is celebrating his eighteenth birthday with his mother, sister and uncle. From his uncle, Henry, Martin receives the generous gift of an antique Longines watch. In a line that will continue to echo through the book, it is referred to as his 'first time machine'. The watch makes Martin reassess his relationship with time. He makes a decision: 'I wanted to become a connoisseur of time'. But what this story is really about is his love for his sister, Dora.

I'm conscious that Robert Aickman is too often cited in reviews of slipstream fiction, and sometimes it seems like people (including me) have no other reference point for strange stories. But this story really did make me think of the way I've felt while reading certain Aickman stories – not so much the writing, or even the weirdness, but the disturbing and uncomfortable nature of the relationships, the sort of stuff that makes me desperate to get away from a story but also makes sure I will never forget it. It's not merely the fact that Martin and Dora are incestuous, it's the words Allan chooses – 'she was slippery with mucous' is a line I wish I could erase from my brain.

In 'My Brother’s Keeper', the Martin we meet is the same yet different. The references to his mother, uncle Henry and 'the Aunts' ensure we know he is the same person. But Dora is gone; in her place is an older brother, Stephen. He died before Martin was born, 'but that didn't seem to stop him aging, or looking out for me'. He walks with Martin as a corporeal ghost or takes the form of a voice in his head. Most of all we know this Martin is a different Martin because he tells us that his 'first time machine' was a Smith, gifted to him on his fourteenth birthday.

In 'My Brother’s Keeper', as in 'Time’s Chariot', there is a person whom the characters refer to as 'the Circus Man'. Small and eccentrically dressed, he parades along Brighton beach, unnerving Martin and amusing his siblings. When Martin has an accident, he is helped by the Circus Man and taught some interesting, if enigmatic, lessons about the nature of time. What is particularly notable is that this Martin reaches the same conclusion as the first – he decides to become a connoisseur of time. 'I would collect information and evidence... I hoped that by doing this I might eventually understand the story I was trying to tell.'

'The Silver Wind' is the centrepiece of the book. (As I have found with Allan's other collections of short stories, the longest is the best.) Unlike the other stories, it is set in a world demonstrably different from ours. A far-right party is in power and some neighbourhoods have become no-go areas, overrun with carjackers and modern-day highwaymen. Martin is older and has been married, though his wife, Miranda, has passed away. Dora is an incidental character. The Circus Man is reincarnated as Owen Andrews, a maker of 'alchemical clocks, more popularly known as time machines'. Despite being initially dismissive of the concept, Martin becomes obsessed with meeting Andrews, convinced the clockmaker might be able to reunite him with Miranda.

The Britain of 'The Silver Wind' is richly realised: bleak and brilliant, powerful in its detail; rather frighteningly prescient in some ways. Of all the stories, it's the one that works the hardest at worldbuilding and the one that offers the most clues to unlocking the puzzle of the whole book. I couldn't shake the sense, somehow, that this was the real reality, with the others representing various attempts to go back or forth and change or revisit something.

[Time is] an amorphous mass, a rag bag if you like, a rag bag of history. The time stasis might grant you access to what you think of as the past, but it wouldn't be the past that you remember. You wouldn't be the same and neither would she. There's a good chance you wouldn't even recognise each other, and even if you did it's unlikely that you would have any sense of a shared history together.

It's appropriate to the themes of The Silver Wind that when I think of it, I see 'The Silver Wind' as the book's heart, and the other stories as branches leading off it.

In 'Rewind' we get to meet Miranda – but she is not (yet?) the beloved wife of 'The Silver Wind'. She and Martin have worked together in an estate agent's office for more than a decade. They are attracted to each other, but both painfully awkward. Martin's sister – Dora – has recently passed away. Some of the details from 'Time’s Chariot' are repeated here, but with additions that make it clear we are (again) meeting a different Martin, not an older version of the first story's protagonist.

'Rewind' was probably my least favourite, perhaps because Martin is such a strong presence throughout the rest of the book and his voice is absent here, perhaps simply because it followed 'The Silver Wind'. It is, however, vital to piecing together the other stories. A photograph surfaces that sparks an inexplicable sense of recognition in Martin. 'There's something strange going on here,' Miranda allows herself to admit after a string of odd, perhaps even impossible, coincidences. It's the first time a character articulates awareness of the interlocking worlds in The Silver Wind, and it leads to a suggestion of more (or more complex) intersections than just a series of possible timelines.

'Timelines: An Afterword' is, really, a fifth story; but perhaps it doesn't count as one of the subtitle's 'Four Stories of Time Disrupted' because it's not about Martin Newland. His Smith watch, however, puts in an appearance, as does a Westclox alarm clock that belonged to his 'aunts' in 'My Brother’s Keeper'. It's about a girl named Ginny who writes stories about time-travelling characters. Again, this reminded me of The Race, the idea of one person's fiction being another's alternate reality, stories being living things. I wonder if the meaning will reveal itself more clearly in readings of further stories. I wonder if Ginny will reappear elsewhere in the Allan-verse – but if she does, will I recognise her? Or have I already met her?

Even now I'm still wondering about, and questioning, certain details. (Is there one love of Martin's life or two? Are some of the repeated names red herrings? Does the revelation about Martin's parentage in 'My Brother’s Keeper' mean that Martin and Dora in 'Time’s Chariot' are not actually siblings? There was one name I was sure I'd seen before, but when I checked the story I thought it was in, it wasn't there; I'm still unsure whether I just imagined the repetition, or whether I have encountered the character in another book. Such uncanny uncertainty seems perfect for The Silver Wind.)

The Silver Wind is, in itself, an excellent book. But what made it truly brilliant for me was the context it added to Allan's other work. Since I started reading her fiction, I've always had this unaccountable feeling all her stories are linked, and there is a peculiar magic in having that confirmed, and having some of its mechanics explained. I've never known it to be so rewarding to make my way through a writer's oeuvre – I am revealing more layers, meanings and interpretations as I go along, finding myself looking at some of her other stories with new eyes, gradually piecing them together as fractions of a brilliant whole.

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[Blair · Rating 5 out of 5]

The original edition of The Silver Wind was published by Eibonvale Press in 2011. I read it last year and loved it. Like several of the author’s other books, it might best be described as a novel-in-stories; in her own words, it deals with ‘narrative’s natural tendency towards the non-linear’. Most of the stories centre on a man (sometimes a boy) called Martin Newland, who is fascinated by the nature of time – and, in some realities, travels through it.

In her foreword, Allan highlights the fact that this new edition (from Titan Books) has a somewhat shifted focus: ‘I have come to understand that the real hero of The Silver Wind is not Martin at all, but Owen Andrews, followed closely by Martin’s brilliant sister, Dora.’ The additions – one brand new story and two previously uncollected stories – help to flesh out these characters, and the new edition feels broader, more expansive, as a result.

Part One
The Silver Wind redux opens with a completely new, novella-length story, ‘The Hurricane’. It focuses on the character of Owen Andrews, a watchmaker who is also pivotal to the book’s title story. We meet him as he is beginning an apprenticeship and learning his craft. Even as an apprentice, he already wants to build a tourbillon – Breguet’s weightless mechanism, an invention that will prove to be integral to the idea of time travel in The Silver Wind. When he accepts a commission from the sinister Lionel Norman, he seems to enter into a deadly rivalry, but he also finds an ally in Norman’s daughter Angela.

‘The Hurricane’ appears to take place in a slightly altered England in the interwar period, one in which a bombed-out, ruined Sussex represents the main departure from our reality. That is, until the very end, when it appears that Owen has abruptly stepped into the modern age. It’s a fantastic, destabilising detail typical of the genius of these stories, a single sentence that made me madly curious and keen to read the story all over again.

Part Two
Part Two of the book contains the four main ‘stories of time disrupted’ from the original edition: ‘Time’s Chariot’, ‘My Brother’s Keeper’, ‘The Silver Wind’ and ‘Rewind’. I won’t go into too much detail about the content of these, as I covered them thoroughly in my original review. ‘Time’s Chariot’ introduces Martin Newland, an 18-year-old preoccupied with his beloved sister Dora and his belief that he must become ‘a connoisseur of time’. In ‘My Brother’s Keeper’ we meet a different, younger Martin, one with no sister, but a ghostly older brother. In ‘The Silver Wind’ – still my favourite part of the book – Martin is an adult, in mourning for his wife Miranda, living in a drastically altered, somewhat dangerous, version of Britain. ‘Rewind’ has Martin and Miranda as colleagues who begin a tentative relationship when they take a trip to Hastings together.

Throughout the stories, details repeat, distort, and rearrange themselves. Watches are frequently referred to as ‘time machines’. Owen Andrews appears several times, sometimes as the watchmaker of ‘The Hurricane’, sometimes in the guise of the Circus Man, an eccentrically dressed figure who terrifies and/or amuses the young Martin and Dora. Minor characters recur too, and reading the new edition in ebook form meant I was constantly looking up names to check whether I’d come across them before.

A conversation between Martin and Owen in ‘The Silver Wind’ (at the exact centre point of the book!) still strikes me as the key to it all. ‘It’s as if the basic template, the temporal pattern if you like, is to some extent indelible.’

‘Timelines: An Afterword’ appears between Part Two and the Out-takes, and remains the most inscrutable component of The Silver Wind. It is the least obviously connected to the others, though perhaps important for the way it draws parallels between the writing of stories and the shifting of realities.

Out-takes
The final section contains revised versions of two stories previously published in anthologies, both of which have ties to the world(s) of The Silver Wind. They are ‘Darkroom’, originally published in Subtle Edens (2008), and ‘Ten Days’, originally published in Now We Are Ten (2016).

When I read the original The Silver Wind, I didn’t recall that I’d encountered the name Martin Newland in ‘Darkroom’ – or if I did, I assumed it was one of those uncanny false echoes that so often occur in Allan’s stories. Here, not only is he a peripheral figure but an invented one, appearing as a character in a novel read by the protagonist. ‘Darkroom’ focuses on Lenny, a maker of dolls’ houses, recently bereaved and working on a new commission. Lenny steps seamlessly and unquestioningly between timelines, raising the question of whether she is even aware that anything has changed. And this, of course, circles right back to the ending of ‘The Hurricane’.

‘Ten Days’ is narrated by Dora. (It’s one of my favourite Allan stories in its own right, and its difficult to choose between this and ‘The Silver Wind’ as my overall favourite.) This Dora is researching the case of Helen Bostall, a woman hanged for the murder of her partner, and in doing so she discovers a way to step back in time and perhaps even change it. Her voice emerges as the strongest in the book. There is excellent period detail in this story – such a rich world – but Dora’s authenticity is just as important in making it work so well.

The Silver Wind is many things: a story of time travel and alternate realities; a series of narratives about relationships, love, illness/disability, and storytelling itself; a topography of Allan’s London. Like the cogs of a watch, the stories of The Silver Wind interlock with elegant precision to produce a miracle of technique, one that seems effortless on its brilliant surface.

---
My original review of The Silver Wind (2011)
My original review of ‘Darkroom’
My original review of ‘Ten Days’

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[Alan · Rating 4 out of 5]

A quartz watch did not tick, and for Owen there was something monstrous in that, in and of itself.
—p.28

According to Wikipedia, Isaac Newton wrote "that the physical laws he had uncovered revealed the mechanical perfection of the workings of the universe to be akin to a watch, wherein the watchmaker is God." And if you aren't already familiar with that view, or with the term horology, then perhaps The Silver Wind will not be the best book you could read, since Nina Allan's time-travel stories depend on a specific watchmaking method—one that really exists, although its effects are perhaps not quite as world-changing as they are in this book. I myself thought (for awhile) that Allan's title was meant to be The Silver Wind (with a long "I" sound, as in winding a watch) but no, the silver wind turns out to be a tourbillon, which is French for "whirlwind."

Like Annalee Newitz's The Future of Another Timeline, The Silver Wind is an exploration of alternatives. As Allan's narrative progresses, the names of her characters stay the same but their histories become totally divergent. It's a lot cozier than Newitz' novel, too, focusing almost entirely on individuals, rather than on grand historical trends—and somehow that focus felt a little more plausible to me.

He was always mystified by South London, which he thought of as a repository of knife crime, grubby takeaways and discount supermarkets.
—p.106

Despite its obsession with time, The Silver Wind seems timeless, at least at first. The novel starts out in a London with much of its familiar furniture intact, before "The City" was hollowed out by skyscrapers and speculators. In this book (as in many others), London itself is a character.

Later, it becomes apparent that Owen and Morton meet in the period between two wars—the Armistice has been signed, but the spectre of World War II is still years away, just a shadow of a storm on the horizon. A feeling of foreboding permeates The Silver Wind, giving it additional depth and richness.

I was reminded of other works, by Jo Walton and Connie Willis, although theirs are set later, in the throes of WWII itself.

And although The Silver Wind may seem to fall apart into a series of disjointed vignettes, starting with the section labeled "Timelines: An Afterword" (p.271), don't be fooled—those scenes, and the following "Out-takes" (p.291) are still integral parts of Allan's ever-changing story.

I read and was impressed by Allan's The Rift when I read that one in September 2017. This one seemed even more impressive to me, and Nina Allan remains an author to look out for.

*

Despite its flaws, Wikipedia remains an excellent resource in many respects, as indicated by the numerous links I've included in this review.

[Michelle · Rating 2 out of 5]

I must be missing something because what I just read was a bunch of loosely related short stories, mostly with the same cast of characters, except in each story they're related to each other in different ways, and sometimes people travel in time if they come in contact with a little person, or maybe a clock or a watch he made, and then each story sort of fizzles out. Not for me.

[Oscar · Rating 4 out of 5]

La escritora inglesa Nina Allan, nos ofrece en ‘Máquinas del tiempo’ un sugerente compendio de cinco relatos, que si bien pueden leerse de manera independiente, mantienen un nexo en común. El libro puede encuadrarse dentro del género de ciencia ficción, pero no son exactamente historias de viajes en el tiempo, sino más bien de universos paralelos, de realidades alternativas. Creo que este libro gustaría incluso a aquellas personas que no leen habitualmente ciencia ficción.

El protagonista principal de la novela es Martin Newland, un hombre fascinado por esas “máquinas del tiempo” que son los relojes, y que estarán presentes en diferentes momentos de su vida. Los relatos transcurren bajo una atmósfera cotidiana, realista, en la que priman más los sentimientos que las aventuras: la familia, el amor, los recuerdos, la pérdida, la esperanza, la nostalgia. Los relatos, los universos, comparten algunos personajes y nombres, aunque no son los mismos, y la autora juega con estas posibilidades. Resulta más que interesante ir buscando puntos en común entres las historias. Y planeando sobre todas ellas, ese misterioso personaje apodado El Hombre del Circo, o Andrew Owen, u Owen Andrews.

El relato que más me ha gustado es ‘El Viento Plateado’, que es el más claramente fantástico de todos. Se trata de una ucronía distópica, en la que Inglaterra vive bajo un gobierno totalitario y racista, y en la que Martin, en su busca del relojero Andrews, se verá envuelto en un experimento de manipulación temporal.

Nina Allan escribe francamente bien, con una prosa de gran calidad literaria. Me resultan fascinantes las historias en las que lo extraño hace incursión en lo cotidiano. Si bien ‘Máquinas del tiempo’ exige la atención del lector, la experiencia es francamente satisfactoria.

[Ignacio Senao f · Rating 5 out of 5]

Como comer chocolate en un balneario. Así me he sentido.

Un poco de Murakami con su soledad y elegancia, y otro poquito de Graham Joyce con su incertidumbre de lo real.

Grupo de relatos en que emplea los mismos nombres de personajes, con breves referencias a lo que paso en otro, pero no es ni la misma persona ni el mismo acto. Son mundos paralelos en que todo gira en torno al tic tac de un reloj, que es lo único que realmente los une: el tiempo.

Sin duda es un libro de lo que hay poquísimo, puedes encontrar buenas historias y relatos. Pero esto es la dulzura que sabores a punto de dormirte.

[Rob Adey · Rating 5 out of 5]

Crafty and crafted time travel novel... Time travel is an easy thing to mess up in SF, and this does well by leaving the mechanics and details largely off-page, instead generating a subtle feeling of uneasiness and spookiness, and exploring memory and grief. Great sense of place and set dressing, too - I'm generally quite happy with your book if you describe a bunch of stuff on a table. And then if you describe a table as well! Brilliant.

[Sergio · Rating 5 out of 5]

https://elrincondekoreander.wordpress...

‘Máquinas del tiempo’, la primera obra de Nina Allan que llega a nuestro país gracias a la colección Fábulas de Albión de NEVSKY, es un niño mimado. No hay más que coger el libro para darse cuenta. Es algo que se nota al analizar los materiales de su edición impresa, la portada, los detalles de las solapas, los materiales adicionales como una entrevista a la autora por la también prologuista de este título, Sofia Rhei, y sobre todo, su contenido. ‘Máquinas del tiempo‘ por desgracia se lee rápido, pero es una novela para paladear con tiempo. Con menos de 200 páginas, el libro se divide en cuatro partes y un epílogo totalmente inconexos y al mismo tiempo completamente relacionados.

Que a nadie le explote la cabeza, al menos de momento. Lo complicado en este caso es decidir si estamos ante una novela dividida en cuatro actos (más el epílogo) o una colección de relatos relacionados entre sí. “¿Pero cómo no tienes claro esto?”, se preguntará alguno. “Si es muy fácil. A ver, ¿los personajes son los mismos en todos los capítulos?”. Pues sí y no, y aquí es donde todo se complica.
El protagonista de todas las historias es Martin Newland. En general, a él se le añaden media docena de personajes que más o menos siempre son también coincidentes entre las diferentes narraciones de ‘Máquinas del tiempo’, como Dora, Stephen o especialmente un extraño y sabio ‘enano’ llamado Owen Andrews o Andrew Owens, no importa. Lo que ocurre es que sus circunstancias no son siempre las mismas, ya que el libro de Nina Allan juega con los mundos paralelos, es decir, una suerte de universos muy próximos entre sí en los que las personas no desempeñan los mismos papeles, aunque en ocasiones sí comparten destinos muy similares.

“Vale, pues es otra historia de universos paralelos, haber empezado por ahí”, dirá el lector desprevenido. Lo que ocurre es que no nos movemos en un terreno exactamente familiar, porque Allan prefiere sugerir y no explicar, y en general aunque los cuentos que componen el libro van desde el costumbrismo puro y duro de la primera historia, ‘El carro alado del tiempo’, hasta la ciencia ficción de corte más clásico de la tercera ‘El viento plateado’, en general todas las narraciones son historias de personajes. ¿Qué quiere decir esto? Que aunque da algunas pinceladas y suelta varias pistas, en realidad a la autora inglesa no le interesa explicarnos por qué ocurre lo que ocurre, si no contarnos quiénes son los personajes y quiénes podrían llegar a ser en otro mundo/tiempo, y con otras circunstancias.

¿Significa esto que no es un libro para lectores de género? En absoluto, ‘Máquinas del tiempo’ desborda género. Esto es así fundamentalmente porque plantea una rotura en la realidad muy clara y evidente, solo que la aborda desde el interior de los personajes, cuando lo habitual es que en fantasía y ciencia ficción se haga desde el exterior. En el fondo es lógico. A un posible viajero entre realidades paralelas puede fascinarle el fenómeno en sí, la existencia de múltiples universos y tiempos coincidentes, pero lo cierto es que sus acciones y su visión del mundo seguirán estando impulsadas por sus relaciones afectivas, sus sentimientos y sus experiencias vitales.
a maestría narrativa de Allan –no puedo decir otra cosa tras leer el libro–, consigue hacer sencillo todo esto que yo llevo complicando desde hace varios párrafos, y no solo eso, si no que además parezca la cosa más natural del mundo. Maneja las frases con tanto pulso que de repente podría hacer aparecer un enano de circo delante de nuestros personajes y la escena seguiría siendo melancólica y plausible. De hecho, lo hace. Además, imprime velocidad al texto de forma que ‘Máquinas del tiempo‘ se lee de manera rápida (como decía, tristemente rápida), sin renunciar al detallismo que tan bien le sienta al libro.

En su estructura puede parecer un libro complicado, pero si vamos a cada una de las historias que en sí componen el título, lo cierto es que Allan peca incluso de ser demasiado convencional. Amores prohibidos, padres ausentes, algún gobierno totalitario, artilugios misteriosos y una obsesión por la realidad del tiempo que se aborda solo tangencialmente a través de los relojes son algunos de los pilares de las distintas narraciones. Aunque independientemente podrían funcionar, lo cierto es que los relatos ganan mucho cuando se miran en conjunto, ya que se dota a los personajes de un ‘background’ que va mucho más allá del que les corresponde a una historia de estas extensiones.

También hay varias ideas originales muy a destacar, especialmente la relacionada con el tourbillon, un mecanismo de relojería creado en 1795 por Breguet (personaje histórico que se cita en el libro) para reducir el efecto de la gravedad en la precisión de los relojes, y que de alguna manera consiste en dar la vuelta a las tripas del aparato cada cierto tiempo. Allan lleva esta idea más allá y propone un tourbillon tan sofisticado que aísla al reloj no solo del efecto de la gravedad, si no del mismo mundo. Esto le sirve de excusa para sugerir una historia muy potente aunque no del todo contada en este ‘Máquinas del tiempo’, que todo hay que decirlo, deja con ganas de más al cerrar el libro.

El epílogo, además, permite dotar de un cierre a la(s) trama(s), aunque lo hace siendo fiel al espíritu personalista de todo el conjunto, de manera que aclara sin explicar, y apunta sin llegar a señalar. Con esto se consigue que el lector sienta que ha llegado al final de una historia cuando cierra el libro, pese a que las historias que nos propone Allan en realidad son igual de infinitas que los universos paralelos propuestos. Piensen al leer este volumen que están en una boutique oliendo diferentes muestras de perfume. Todas llevan las mismas flores aunque en algunas predomina el jazmín y en otras el azahar se superpone al resto de las fragancias. Si permanecen demasiado tiempo dentro, al final la nariz se atrofia y todos los aromas parecen el mismo. Aquí Allan ha sabido seleccionar muy bien los frascos y medir las dosis para que cuando terminemos la visita solo nos sintamos un poco mareados.

[Coral Carracedo · Rating 4 out of 5]

8/10
Leer Máquinas del tiempo ha sido una experiencia inusual. Como hacer un puzzle mientras iba puesta de una sustancia psicotrópica.
Los relatos que forman el libro son independientes pero aún así están interconectados. Hay nombres que aparecen como un personaje y luego otro. Saltos temporales. Engaños.
Son realidades alternativas bajo un concepto inteligente y sutil.
Está claro que no es una lectura de devorar, sino de paladear.

He disfrutado mucho de los personajes diversos y de relaciones no normativas que se desarrollan en un marco bastante cotidiano. El personaje de Andrew Owens es el que siempre buscaba en cada relato.
He intentado pensar en cual es mi favorito, pero me he dado cuenta de que todos los relatos son muy disfrutables. Quizá, el "El viento plateado" por ser el que tiene más miga. Pero después de leer todos al volver atrás, ves el puzzle completo y entiendes que todos son necesarios aunque en el momento de leerlos no lo entendías completamente.
Mi única pega es que he sentido algo lento el arranque de los relatos, por ser, quizá, relatos que funcionan de forma independiente.

Es de agradecer el prólogo y la entrevista final a la autora.

[Soph Barker · Rating 5 out of 5]

Lo he devorado. No sé muy bien cómo clasificarlo ni a quién recomendárselo, pero sí puedo decir que la lectura me ha resultado muy agradable: los personajes, perfilados muy sutilmente, enseguida resultan familiares.

En realidad, más que una novela corta es una recopilación de historias con ideas en común, por lo que el "misterio" o el "conflicto" no se resuelve, así que si eres de esas personas que le resta puntos a los libros que no te dan todo mascado, definitivamente NO leas este libro. Si te conformas con leer un buen libro, disfrutar con la experiencia de no tener muy claro qué está pasando pero te enganchas a los personajes, totalmente recomendado.

[Dan Coxon · Rating 4 out of 5]

As always with Nina Allan's work, The Silver Wind is an intelligent and genre-breaking work of science fiction, using some of the trappings of the genre (in this case time travel) but treating them with an incisive literary sensibility. While this book might be viewed as a fractured form of the novel, I think it works better as a collection of interconnected stories, sharing the same world and many of the same characters. As such, it's a more challenging read than some of her novels, and slightly confusing at times - but all the stronger for it.

[Ashley | booksaremythirdplace · Rating 1 out of 5]

DNF’d at page 153. It was the incest spice. Could not recover from that. Chapter one was 100 pages long, and it was very confusing. I was hoping for an exciting time travel thriller, and it was just a lot of ick for me. Would not recommend.

[Mark Webb · Rating 5 out of 5]

The Silver Wind: Four Stories of Time Disrupted by Nina Allan is not a book I would have come across myself. I read it as a result of it being the subject of one of my favourite podcasts,  The Writer and the Critic , this month (February 2012). And my experience of reading it reinforces my belief in the benefits of stretching my reading circle - it was fantastic.

I try not to put spoilers in my reviews, and this review is no exception. However, I would say that reading this book completely fresh with no pre-conceptions at all was a very intriguing experience (I didn't even read the back cover). I would recommend approaching the collection in that kind of innocent state, and even the brief descriptions I give here might be considered too much. Consider yourself warned!

There are four connected longer stories in the collection, followed by a shorter fifth story in the form of an afterword. The collection is based around an extremely interesting central idea of time and time travel. It explores this theme in lots of different forms, from timepieces (watches, clocks etc) through to different time streams and alternate realities.

In the first story in the collection, Time's Chariot, we meet Martin Newland, a young man coping with the loss of a loved one and the depressingly slow disintegration of his family. There are almost no fantastical elements to this short story at all - it explores characters, renders geography beautifully and has a fantastic feel to the way Martin's passion for time and watch making is ignited, but there isn't anything I could really call strongly supernatural. But I almost came to think of this story as a control story - the "normal" one that I would compare the increasingly strange events throughout the rest of the collection to.

The second story, My Brother's Keeper, slowly reveals to also be from Martin Newland's perspective, but this is a younger Newland in an entirely different setting. Details of the world are different and there is a much stronger supernatural element, with ghosts and seeming magic abounding, all seen through the accepting eyes of the child version of Martin. Characters have the same names as the original story but have radically different relationships. Reading the first two stories back to back gives a sense of disconnection, of drifting away from the "real" world to somewhere more fantastic.

In the third story, The Silver Wind, Martin Newland again narrates for us, but this time in an older incarnation (still relatively young). The world is recognisably different, and I got more of a science fiction feel from it as we start to get a more scientific alternate universe explanations to describe the differences. Character relationships have again changed, with former siblings now friends, some characters dead, new characters introduced.

In the fourth story, Rewind, the narration splits between Martin again (this time a much older version) and Miranda, his tentative love interest. In this story, the reader has the benefit of knowledge gained from the first three stories and the story has almost the feel of a mystery or puzzle, as you wait for the characters to start putting the pieces together.

Jumping around not only between different alternate realities, but also to different stages of life of the different incarnations of Martin (from boy to middle aged man) also gave a better rounded sense of the core of the character (even though it was a slightly different version of Martin each time). This was true to a lesser extent to the other characters as well. It allowed the exploration of different facets of the characters, allowing you to see the answer to the question "if the circumstances of their life was different, in what ways would a person be different and what would remain the same"

While the four stories so far are mostly told from Martin Newland's point of view, another character threads his way through all the stories - a somewhat mysterious genius dwarf named Andrew Owens (or Owen Andrews or the Circus Man) who seems to have much more knowledge than the other characters and seems to understand, at least partially, what is going on and how to navigate these alternate realities.

The fifth story, Timelines: An Afterword, was interesting. It was not told from Martin Newland's point of view, indeed Martin does not show up at all. It seemed to be almost a meta story, with a slightly autobiographical feel as a writer navigates her own family issues and begins to envision a character, Andrew - a brilliant physicist about to make a startling discovery about time. The last part tells the beginning of Andrew's story, a loop around to perhaps the events that kick off the other stories.

I had an interesting reaction to this last story. When I was a kid I loved the Narnia books and started, as I'm sure most people did, with The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe and went on to read the later books in the series. It wasn't until a long time later when someone bought me a complete set of the books that I realised that there was a prequel, The Magician's Nephew, that set the scene for the books that followed but used different characters to the ones I was used to reading about. Placing Timelines as an afterword and breaking from the convention of using Martin as the protagonist gave me that same sense of looping back to the beginning of something I had thought complete.

I don't think I would have got anywhere near the same experience from reading the stories separately. I found the most impact from the interplay between the stories, from comparing the details of the different realities and the different characters. They worked beautifully as a set, but interestingly I don't think I would have given any of the individual stories on their own anywhere near as much praise. There is very little in the way of plot in each story, the concerns being explored are generally very personal to the characters. This kind of character driven/no plot doesn't always appeal to me. However, I felt there was a meta-plot holding all the stories together, which made this book work very powerfully as a collection.

I found the writing style to be simple but powerful - grounded story telling that still left the reader enough space to try to piece together the differences in the worlds without having everything explained to the nth degree. I loved the description of timepieces throughout the stories - I've always found mechanical watches fascinating (although ironically I don't actually wear a watch).

I wasn't able to find an electronic copy of this book, so I ordered a paper copy online (I know - very early 2000s  of me). I must say the cover is beautiful and the book very well laid out.

Overall, I unexpectedly loved this collection and would recommend it strongly. Also, now I can listen to this month's edition of The Writer and the Critic, so I'm doubly glad to be done!

I also reviewed this book on my website.

[David Harris · Rating 5 out of 5]

I'm grateful to the publisher for an advance copy of The Silver Wind to consider for review.

The Silver Wind feels to me like a key to Allan's writing.

Over the past couple of years I have loved her novels The Race, The Rift and most recently, The Dollmaker. In these (mostly) earlier stories loosely following the career of Martin Newland and of a group of characters round him whose histories, identities and lives shift, merge and overlap, I can see foreshadowings of themes and features of those other books.

The devastated south coast of England that is the backdrop to parts of The Race.

The theme of loss and abandonment central to The Rift.

Andrew Garvie, the marginalised (dwarf) protagonist of The Dollmaker, that book's quest for an elusive creator, Ewa Chaplin, and the intertwining landscape of her stories that forms the background to the story (including the alternate, militaristic England in which a famous actress departs or dies, and perhaps the germ of the "court dwarf" theme itself.

More fundamentally there's Allan's forensic, yet tender, sense of place - demonstrated in Garvie's journey through Reading to the West of England and in The Silver Wind through an almost passionate exploration of the Streets of Southwark, of the woods of Shooter's Hill, of South Coast towns. In her writing you almost know these places, you feel your feet wandering down alleys and lanes and you feel the strangeness when a step takes you out of your way.

I'm in danger of. dissolving into mere vapid praise. It's hard to write this review because my usual go-to move - lightly summarise the plot and draw out memorable incidents - just won't work. This is less a single story than a collection, but a collection in which every new story reworks, reinterprets, deconstructs or comments on the others.

The same characters recur but with drastically different histories. In the first, "The Hurricane" apprentice watchmaker Owen Andrews travels to London from Devon to take up a new post, leaving Newland and his sister Dora behind and remembered but peripheral. In another, set in that militaristic alt-world, Andrews is a master craftsman, holed up in a remote wood (hints of fairytale) who Newland, an estate agent, seeks out. In other stories the relationship between Newland and Dora is explored and Andrews is a marginal figure.

Yet behind these differences at the same time these are the same people, the stories are the same stories. Explanations in one story sometimes cast light on the others, sometimes not. We never learn what became of Andrews after he flees at the end of "The Hurricane", set seemingly in an alternate 1920s (but apparently warping to the present day at the end). Never, that is, unless the call back at the beginning of "Rewind" (which is surely looking back to the, or a, 19th century?) is the answer. Motifs recur - the Circus Man on the beach in a South Coast seaside town, the lesbian "Aunts", an Uncle Henry who plays different roles. Most of all, perhaps, a sense of loss, of mourning a dead sister, a dead wife, a dead lover.

Complex, multilayered, multithreaded, this is less a collection of stories than its own mythology - in that respect it reminded me of M John Harrison's Viriconium stories - both unified and driven by the theme of time, time lost, regained, altered, of clocks and watches, of the mysterious tourbillon mechanism and i's creator, Breuget. Often introduced into the story as gifts (often from Uncle Henry) and referred to as "time machines" (a nice pun) the watches and clocks which Andrews constructs have abilities that go beyond merely marking time. They are active, though we never know the exact rules: it's as though the stories here are the same story, running through permutations and alternatives yet influencing each other as though different worlds overlap, a whole litter of Schrödinger's cats running round the house with different balls of wool, always separate , always entangled.

This book makes for rich, significant storytelling, storytelling where every word matters, every story is complete but the collection as a whole is also complete, adding whole levels of meaning. It's a book you can come back and reread, with new insights, where every different part adds much to the rest.

Very enjoyable, very thought-provoking and like a glimpse into an entirely new world. Finally, look at that glorious cover by Julia Lloyd - truly a thing of beauty!

Strongly recommended.

[Manu · Rating 4 out of 5]

(Reseña en Fantífica, con resaltados, imágenes y cosas.)

Solo hace falta tocar con los dedos la edición que ha hecho Fábulas de Albión (Nevsky) de The Silver Wind, el segundo libro propiamente dicho de Nina Allan, para darnos cuenta de que estamos ante una obra bien cuidada. Si luego miramos la portada, la sensación se confirma: aparte de la preciosa ilustración de Eva Ramón, lleva bien visibles los nombres de las traductoras e informa de que el libro cuenta con un prólogo escrito por Sofía Rhei, que también se ocupa de la entrevista a la escritora que viene incluida a lo bonus track después del texto propiamente dicho.

Si nos dejamos el prólogo para el final —cosa que recomiendo hacer, igual que en La sombra fuera del tiempo —, encontraremos un texto prácticamente libre de erratas (ahí, don Fernando) y una traducción fluida que nos lleva directos y sin choques al amplio Londres.

Y aquí es donde ya no puedo retrasar más el momento de empezar a hablar de los cinco relatos que componen Máquinas del tiempo, aunque lo que de verdad me pide el cuerpo es recomendaros su lectura y concluir aquí mismo la reseña. Porque no hacerlo supone, por narices, deslucir un poco los dos o tres momentos de absoluto descoloque que acabaréis encontrando si llegáis vírgenes a El carro alado del tiempo, primero de los cinco relatos reunidos en el libro. Pero en fin. Procuraré deslucirlos poquito, tranquilos.

Máquinas del tiempo está compuesto por cinco historias que, sin tener nada que ver unas con otras, lo tienen todo. Lo entenderéis cuando hayáis empezado la segunda de ellas y veáis que los relatos comparten protagonista pero en realidad parecen casi personas distintas; que comparten nombres propios pero no del todo personajes secundarios; que el tiempo tiene un papel primordial en todos ellos y a la vez es casi intrascendente; que, siendo cuentos independientes, se acechan unos a otros; que lo que parecen meros detalles cambiados da lugar a historias muy distintas; y por último, que hay excepciones a varias de las afirmaciones anteriores, si no a todas.

Porque lo que tenemos entre manos es básicamente un experimento de Nina Allan que por suerte, o más bien por habilidad, ha clavado. En el libro visitamos en cinco ocasiones a Martin Newland, un londinense cuya vida gira, más que las del resto, en torno al propio tiempo. Un hombre (un niño, un joven) cuyos destinos se entremezclan con los de quien podríamos llamar Owen Andrews y a quien podríamos describir como maestro relojero. De los cinco relatos, uno es más intimista, otro más sugerente y misterioso, otro más parecido a una terrorífica aventura de ciencia ficción... pero juntos dan una sensación de continuidad, de compacidad —que cuaja del todo en el tercer relato, El viento plateado, el que da título al libro en inglés— y de interrelación que volvían casi obligatorio reunirlos en un solo volumen, como por suerte, o de nuevo más bien por habilidad, hizo Eibonvale Press y ahora Nevsky.

Me doy cuenta de que he sido impreciso y he flotado muy por encima del texto, de que ni siquiera he comentado individualmente las cinco historias, ni tampoco he dejado claro el meollo de la cuestión, la consecuencia de juguetear con el tiempo que sirve de eje al libro. Pero de verdad creo que os hago un favor con ello si ya estabais considerando leer Máquinas del tiempo. Y si no, haceos vosotros mismos el favor y echad un ojo a estas variaciones sobre un tema que ha compuesto Allan.

[Marina · Rating 2 out of 5]

"Was he mad at the end, do you think?"
"The man was a genius," Morton said. "There's a fine line between the two.


No.

This further proves that books should come with trigger warnings for all the themes and topics that you might not want to read about. In this instance, it was incest.
Also summaries lie. When the synopsis says "sometimes siblings, sometimes lovers", what it really means is "most of the times lovers, including when they're siblings", and that's just not cool to sprung that on people when they're already a good 100 pages into the book. And just when you think "oh, okay, maybe that was just this part, we seem to be past that", it comes back again and again, and if I were the kind of person who DNFed books willy-nilly, I would have done it.
That was my PSA, because I'm really confused how no one in the reviews talks about it!

But if that wasn't enough, the effect Allan was going for completely fails. The story is incredibly repetitive, with not enough variations in the stories to really stoke the interest. We conclude each story just as the characters seem to comprehend what each iteration of the watches can do. By the third story, I was growing pretty tired of reading, over and over, about Louis Breguet and his tourbillon. In the end, I think the premise of the book falls flat, and it's incredibly disappointing considering that some stories had appeal.

In conclusion:
First part: excellent.
Last part: pretty good, if not as emotionally engaging.
Everything in between: hard pass.

[Trevor Denyer · Rating 5 out of 5]

This is a brilliant novel that intertwines themes and times as the protagonists relate to one another in ways that contradict then connect, leaving traces of memory with the reader, like hooks that the characters are only vaguely aware of, but which the reader sees through the prism of time travel.
The story of Martin Newland will take you into a strange world where time is not linear, but consists of many variables, governed by the movement of watches and clocks.
Nina Allan has created a complex, endlessly fascinating story that spans an ever changing timescape where bizarre events jostle with the everyday. Familiar echoes of past timelines impact upon the developing story as it progresses to a conclusion that leaves you feeling as if you have been on a journey you have not fully understood but which, at every turn, you have been intimately engaged with.
I love this writer’s work which is challenging but supremely rewarding for anyone with the imagination to fly with her, through the mechanism of clocks and watches, on the silver wind.
This is another excellent title from Eibonvale Press: www.eibonvalepress.co.uk

[Sub_zero · Rating 4 out of 5]

4/5

Nina Allan nos ofrece en 'Máquinas del tiempo' una estupenda novela corta estructurada en forma de cinco relatos y un breve epílogo, capaces de reinventar completamente nuestra concepción de los viajes espacio-temporales gracias a su innovadora puesta en escena y al irresistible encanto de su estilizada prosa. Cada uno de los relatos supone una perspectiva fascinante y complementaria de una única historia principal, una obra que sorprende de manera constante al lector espabilado con innumerables guiños, paradojas y misterios aparentemente inexplicables cuya interpretación no queda por completo cerrada. Pero 'Máquinas del tiempo' no solo destaca por ser una notable obra de ciencia-ficción; Nina Allan también demuestra conocer en profundidad las inquietudes mundanas del ser humano o las emociones más arraigadas que subyacen bajo la pátina de lo prohibido. Y por supuesto, la escritora británica sabe muy bien lo que somos capaces de hacer con tal de reparar ese descomunal sentimiento de pérdida que por desgracia, tal y como le ocurre al protagonista de 'Máquinas en el tiempo', a veces nos toca experimentar.

[Daniel foster · Rating 1 out of 5]

this book has several storylines, all loosely connected through one watch, and eight dozen characters.

at many points a character is unnamed through one storyline, before some detail is mentioned which is supposed to make the penny drop and you realise who it is, but i did not care about any of these characters. so i either didn’t get it or it wasn’t worth the buildup. many of the storylines involve the same characters in divergent timelines, where almost nothing but their names are constant, but i honestly didn’t even bother trying to remember their names because i was given no reason to. furthermore, in none of these timelines were these characters even given at all fitting conclusions, i mean seriously not one satisfying ending or character arc was found.

i’d also love if someone could please explain to me why that incest plotline had to recur so much, and be explored in so much graphic detail without fail. i’m sure the story would have been fine without the fixation on this brother and sister kissing each other until their mouths bled or having sex in every possible timeline

[Matt · Rating 4 out of 5]

The Silver Wind is a fascinating read. It loosely fits into the sci fi genre due to some of the plot devices used. But it is not your overt in your face sci fi, it is quite subtle and is used as the vehicle to tell the stories.

This book is a collection of connected short stories. They sometimes have the same characters appearing but fulfilling different roles, having different relationships, and being set within different time periods in the UK.

The sci fi aspects involve time travel and alternate timelines. An area that is a personal favourite of mine. It is tied in with horology and a device called the tourbillion. These aspects are not however at the forefront, it is the characters and their varying stories across the timelines that is the focus here.

Owen Andrews is the first character we are introduced to within the story of The Hurricane. He is an apprentice watchmaker and becomes pivotal to some of the other stories collected throughout the book. The Hurricane was my favourite part of the book, I really liked the character of Owen and his pursuit of knowledge.

Martin and Dora Newland are other main characters that crop up across the pages of the book. However I did find Time’s Chariot, and My Brother’s Keeper not as engaging as The Hurricane. I found myself not caring as much for the characters.

The Silver Wind story itself however is definitely another clear highlight. That and The Hurricane are worthy of 5 stars. Focusing again on the characters of Martin and Dora uncovering a mystery involving Owen Andrews. The final main story here: Rewind is a very touching story revolving around Martin and the idea of moving on.

There is also some bonus material in the form of Timelines: an afterword, plus the out-takes Darkroom and Ten-Days. Ten-Days especially is worth a read, and I’m glad it is included as the story focuses and is from the perspective of Dora.

Overall The Silver Wind does not tell a cohesive narrative, which some may find off putting. Especially with the changes characters undergo between different stories. The stories are very human and relatable, more about time lost, personal loss, and missed opportunities. This is not your Doctor Who style time travel, it is refreshing and inventive.

[Nicky · Rating 3 out of 5]

I didn’t enjoy The Silver Wind as much as the other novella by Allan that I’ve read, Spin, but then I kind of expected that — Spin is a take on the story of Arachne, after all, and I really enjoy well-done retellings. The Silver Wind is a bit more of a mystery; sort of a time travel/alternate realities story, I guess. It’s perhaps best experienced for yourself, to see what you make of the plot; it’s well-written, though, and despite the similarities between the stories that make up the narrative, each brings something different as well.

I didn’t love it, and I don’t think it was as finely done as Spin, but it was enjoyable and I’m definitely still curious to read more of Allan’s work.

Reviewed for The Bibliophibian.

[Mel H · Rating 4 out of 5]

This is a hard one to pin down. Rather than a conventional novel, The Silver Wind is more like a collection of stories (some with more obvious ties to each other than others) that play with the concept of time, relationships, and how different yet similar alternate realities could be. Some stories were lovely in their own right, while others seemed disjointed and jarringly out of place (making me wonder if I’m missing something or if that was intentional?).

I was a little disappointed in the actual time travel aspect - while it’s central to the concept throughout, I was really hoping for more about it. Overall, a good book, sometimes great, often confusing, but if you let yourself be swept along and don’t ask too many questions, quite enjoyable.

[Susan Welch · Rating 3 out of 5]

More of a mood than a cohesive story, this collection reads a bit like someone took characters, relationships, elements, and themes and put them all in a hat to draw them out and reconstruct stories. It's disorienting, which I suppose is the point. Definitely an interesting take on time travel, told sort of from the sidelines by people caught up in it. Reminded me of the "wibbly wobbly timey wimey" bit from doctor who. Content warning for some (consensual) incest that kind of comes out of nowhere.

[Nicole Hughes-Chen · Rating 1 out of 5]

In my opinion this is not a good book.
I think the idea is convoluted and completely strikes out.
About a third of the way through I went back to the start and started making notes and it still didn't make sense to me. When I finished I went straight to the reviews of this book (which I normally never do) to try to obtain more of an understanding of what on Earth the author was trying to convey. I am an intellectual but I still do not understand this book!

The book is separated into sections. In the first section 'Hurricane' Owen Andrews is making a watch for Lionel Norman and falls in love with Lionel's daughter Angela. Angela believes that Owen is in fact making a time machine and must not give it to her father. Angela and her Dad then go AWOL.

In part 2 Time's Chariot the main character is Martin Pullinger who has a sister called Dora, a deceased father and his Uncle Henry tries to be the father figure. Dora then dies and Martin's Mum Violet emigrates to Australia. There is no relation in this part to part 1, and it is confusing because both sections are written in the first person, so it takes a while to realise 'I' is someone else entirely.

In part 3 My Brother's Keeper we are with Martin again but this time he has a dead brother Stephen (no mention of Dora). Stephen's best friend Rye Levin is mentioned. In this part we still have Uncle Henry and mum Violet, however in this one bisexual Aunts Judith and Myra are introduced and it turns out Judith is Martin's biological Mother. There is also Frenec; a 'circus man' who is a freaky man on the beach.

Part 4 is Silver Wind and where I had to start making notes on this confusing book. The main character is Martin again but this time he's an Estate Agent so I guess we've travelled forward in time. He has a wife called Miranda and is selling the house of Mr Usher. His sister Dora is alive in this one and married to someone called Ray Levine - who I'm guessing is Rye Levin from part 3. There's no mention of brother Stephen. There is a mention of a visit to Owen Andrews but not much else relating to part 1.

Part 5 is Rewind and we have a new character introduced which is Juliet; the granddaughter of Angela from Part 1 - so confusingly named Rewind because we seem to be two generations into the future from where we started. In this one Miranda has a brother called Stephen, Usher is moving house (again) and Martin has a friend called Ray Levin. It's like an alternative reality but kind of pointless!! Martin dates Miranda and his Aunt is called Violet. He believes Frenec is Owen Andrews but we're not really told why to help the reader draw this conclusion. Then it turns out Juliet's grandma is not Angela but Dora - so are Angela and Dora the same person in different realities? And Owen Andrews/Circus Man says he knows Martin and they've discussed time streams but when?

Part 6 is Timelines - an Afterword. We have two new characters - Binny who has a brother called Charlie. Binny's family are moving to France - which is weird because Angela mentioned her Mum was in France in Part 1 and Martin mentioned he'd like to holiday in France with Miranda in section 5. Are they meant to overlap? What's the significance? Binny's great Grandfather is Raymond and boyfriend is Kit - none of this seems connected to any of the previous 5 parts.

Part 7 is Darkroom in which more new characters are introduced. We have lovers Malcolm and Lenny, but Malcolm dies. Frank and Natasha Bentall commission Lenny to make a dollhouse which she does using descriptions of a house that sounds weirdly like Usher's house which is described in a book written by Martin Newland - is this Martin Pullinger? Then at the end Lenny takes Malcolm some tea which he drinks....but he's dead? What?

The final section is Ten Days when I hoped everything would be pulled together and some sense would be achieved. The main character is Dora this time and she has a brother Martin and Uncle Henry - so this is matching part 2. But then Dora decides to write about a Helen Bostall who was in love with her cousin Peter who dies. Helen then meets journalist Edwin Dillon and has a relationship with him but whom is murdered. It turns out he was having an affair with Louise Tichener. Helen is hung for his murder. There's then mention of Mr Usher again (from Part 4 and 5) but this time he's a collecter of murder memorabilia. He has Helen's executioner's watch and gives it to Dora. It's also mentioned that Martin is married to Miranda (who died) and Dora is divorced from Ray. Dora uses the watch to travel back in time and changes the future so Edwin isn't murdered and Helen not hanged.

It's confusing and perhaps I was looking for connections that were not there but then why use the same or incredibly similar names? Time travel was unexplained except for the end when I was past caring and as previously noted, it was more like alternate realities than time travel. I still don't know what happened to Angela and why Owen became the Circus Man. I don't know why Stephen was ever written about and I don't know why we had so many new characters introduced in the last sections.

This has definitely put me off reading anything more by Nina Allan.

[Mitch · Rating 3 out of 5]

3.0 Stars
Allan's writing is still very strong but I found each story so disparate from the others that I sorta lost interest until the last story "Ten Days" which was excellent. I really would have liked to have seen more of that style in the book.

[La Espada en la Tinta · Rating 5 out of 5]

El viaje en el tiempo, clásico tema de la ciencia ficción. Los autores amantes de la historia mandan a sus personajes al pasado, normalmente solo como observadores de hechos trascendentes (con la gran advertencia «¡no toques nada!» pesando siempre sobre ellos). Si se busca un efecto de inquietud, incluso de terror, se puede recurrir a visitar futuros distópicos, con un tono admonitorio; o peor aún, a castigar al insensato que recorre la línea temporal a contracorriente con la visión de lo que su injerencia ha provocado, presentar un escenario terrible en el clímax –y desenlace– del relato. Desde obras maestras fundacionales como La máquina del tiempo de Wells, Un yanqui en la corte del rey Arturo de Twain y clásicos modernos como El libro del día del juicio final de Connie Willis, El fin de la eternidad de Asimov o El ruido de un trueno de Bradbury a intentos mediocres como la reciente 22/11/63 de Stephen King o Rescate en el tiempo (1999-1357) de Michael Crichton, el subgénero del turismo temporal nos ha acompañado siempre; como novela juvenil (Cruzada en jeans de Thea Beckman es un buen ejemplo) o reflexiva ciencia ficción hard, nunca ha dejado de estar en boga.

Sigue leyendo...

[Fabulantes · Rating 3 out of 5]

Reseña: http://www.fabulantes.com/2014/12/maq...
"Cinco historias independientes se organizan en superposición sobre un telón de fondo y unos personajes comunes, con el tiempo organizado en paralelo, como si se nos estuviese ofreciendo una perspectiva o visión seccional del multiverso. La habilidad de Allan para hacer de este concepto una metáfora compleja alcanza su cota máxima cuando, a través de estos cinco tiempos (cronos), los personajes mantienen una unidad coherente con el concepto metafísico de destino o, si se prefiere, con el teleológico de kairós o tiempo íntimo: se mantienen estables sus relaciones, sus vidas o profesiones o aficiones, sus descripciones, e incluso, en algún caso, se juega con un déjà vu para cruzarlos en el espacio-tiempo."

[Laura M. P. · Rating 4 out of 5]

Des nouvelles qui sont autant de variations autour de mêmes personnages et qui finissent par prendre sens par leur addition... C'est le recueil de nouvelles le plus marquant que j'ai lu depuis un bout de temps! Est-ce que Nina Allan va devenir une autre Siri Hustvedt pour moi (c'est-à-dire est-ce que je finirai par plus l'aimer que Christopher Priets comme je trouve Siri Hustvedt plus douée que Paul Auster - alors que j'apprécie énormément ces deux auteurs masculins?)

[L Morgan · Rating 3 out of 5]

We read this in my spec fic book club and everyone pretty much unanimously gave this book a hearty "meh." Allan is clearly a talented writer, but pretty much just threw this collection together with stories she had lying around. As a result, they feel a bit half-finished and lacking in a satisfying conclusion. Still, there were enough intriguing ideas in there to make me curious enough to pick up one of her novels next.

[Chamisso]

ya lo lei solo estoy probando como se usa Goodreads